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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451196">Snowed In</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldhedwig/pseuds/stonecoldhedwig'>stonecoldhedwig</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Muggle, First Kiss, Hanukkah, Jewish Character, Jewish Holidays, Jewish!Remus, Multi, Snow, Snowed In</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:34:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldhedwig/pseuds/stonecoldhedwig</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Remus is prevented from going home for Hanukkah, Sirius comes up with a plan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Wolfnoote</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Snowed In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth_Dicewielder/gifts">Elizabeth_Dicewielder</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Hanukkah, Wish!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ok, Mum, I’ll call you tomorrow, alright? Yeah, love you too.” </p><p>Remus Lupin ended the call and stared down at the dark screen of his phone. He sighed. Across the room, Sirius Black stood at the window, staring out at the early December snow falling over the village of Godric’s Hollow. It had been coming down in heavy flurries for about 24 hours straight. The ground was covered in a good foot of snow, glittering white and beautifully untouched. </p><p>Sirius looked up. “How did they take it?” he asked, chewing on his bottom lip.</p><p>Remus shrugged. “As well as can be, I suppose. I think my mum was really excited for me to be able to go home for Hanukkah and now—“ he gestured at the window and the snow outside— “well, it would be the heaviest snow fall in fifty years, wouldn’t it?” </p><p>Sirius gave a sympathetic tut. “It’s a real shame. I’m sorry, Moony; I know this is important to you.” </p><p>“There’s always next year,” Remus said with a sad smile. “And hey, at least I didn’t miss Yom Kippur…” </p><p>Sirius watched him as he pushed his phone into his pocket, a frown creasing between his brows. </p><p>“Anyway—“ Remus jerked his head in the direction of his study— “I’ve got to get some work done today or McGonagall will kill me.” </p><p>“Right, yeah,” murmured Sirius towards Remus’ retreating back. With a sigh, he turned and looked back out the window. </p><p>If Sirius was being quite honest, the best way to describe the feeling he was currently experiencing was <em>excruciating</em>. He and Remus had been friends for years, ever since they met at work, and Sirius was convinced that Remus had been captor of his heart for the entire time. Nothing made some secret, unnamed love bloom and burst silently in his chest like the sandy blonde curls and curious hazel eyes of one Remus John Lupin. </p><p>He’d never told Remus, of course—Sirius was certain that nothing would kill their friendship more than him confessing to Remus that he was completely, utterly, madly, superfluously in love with him. Seeing the crease form on Remus’ brow and the disappointed look in his eyes, though, had made Sirius’ stomach turn over and his heart constrict. </p><p>Sirius had never told anyone else, either. He loved Remus with a sort of commitment that he hadn’t realised he was capable of—a gentle, steady endlessness that stopped his eye from ever being turned by another man or woman. While the others joked that Sirius simply had too discerning a taste to ever be satisfied, he knew the real reason was because no one else was Remus; as he lay in bed at night and pondered the machinations of his heart, Sirius knew that it would simply never beat for anyone but Remus. </p><p>Sirius wished he could arrange for the snow to vanish, for the roads to be clear, and for Remus to travel home to his family. He didn’t necessarily understand the yearning—frankly, being in the same country as Walburga and Orion set his hackles up—but he knew how important it was to Remus. His faith was something that tied him to his family, that cloaked him in his heritage and his origin story. As Sirius stared at the snow that continued to fall, catching on the bare branches of the trees like winter’s blooms, he wondered if there was a way for them to bring Hanukkah to the house at such short notice. Although Remus wouldn’t be going home to see Lyall and Hope, Sirius thought, perhaps he still might like to celebrate with this other little family they had.</p><p>Sirius left the sitting room and padded along the hallway towards the library, where he knew James would be on a cold day like that. James’ parents had died quite suddenly in a car accident and left him their crumbling pile in the West Country, Peverell Hall. He and Lily had barely been married for six months when it had happened, and the thought of the two of them rattling around in the house by themselves had been too much to bear. Lily got a job as a doctor in a local practice, and they’d invited Sirius and Remus to join them; to live with them and make the house a home again. </p><p>Sirius reached the library and pushed open the door, only to be met by darkness. “Hey, Jem!” he called softly, squinting into the dim room. </p><p>“Yeah?” came James’ reply, and a lamp flicked on from James’ desk near the closed curtains. </p><p>“What are you<em> wearing</em>?” laughed Sirius as he crossed the library to James’ desk. In place of where James’ glasses usually sat, he was wearing a pair of hugely magnifying goggles, complete with a light on the bridge of his nose that shone aggressively into Sirius’ eyes. “Are you trying to blind me?”</p><p>“God, sorry,” James chuckled and pulled them off, replacing them with his usual glasses. “I’m going through my dad’s map collection and the goggles make it easier to see.” </p><p>“You look like a mad professor.” Sirius sat on the arm of a sagging armchair which groaned beneath his weight. “Anyway, Remus just called his folks to tell them he won’t make it back for Hanukkah because of the snow. He’s really bummed about it. Should we do something to celebrate?” </p><p>James made a sympathetic noise. “That’s rum luck, poor Moony,” he said as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I absolutely think we should celebrate, but I don’t know where to start. Do you think Lils will know?” </p><p>“She’s at work seeing patients, I won’t bother her. I’ll look it up, and if you’re not busy this afternoon, do you want to decorate with me?” </p><p>“Sure,” smiled James easily, and reached for his goggles. “Now, let me get back to my maps.” </p>
<hr/><p>After a long afternoon of both ignoring the fact he couldn’t go home and ignoring his boss’ calls, Remus sat back in his chair and sighed. He was angry at himself for not setting off for home sooner; for thinking that the weather would hold off just enough for him to drive the few hours up the motorway and into the Welsh mountains. It hadn’t, and now Remus was stuck in what would in any other circumstance be a delight, a winter snow scene of truly romantic proportions, which he presently despised.</p><p>Remus had been desperate to go home for Hanukkah. He wanted to sit at his parents’ kitchen table with his bubbe next to him, holding his hand in her papery-thin ones as she told him about what she’d been doing recently. He wanted to gather with his family over the eight evenings, and listen to his father form the rich syllables of the Hebrew blessings over that night’s candles, Lyall’s eyes slipping closed as he intoned. Remus wanted to eat more fried food than he did the rest of the year put together, and play dreidel with his cousins. He wanted <em>home</em>.</p><p>“No use moping about it,” Remus muttered to no one in particular. He pushed himself to his feet and checked his watch—four o’clock. The four of them usually had a cup of tea at this time when Lily got home from seeing patients all day, and the thought of some normalcy in an all-together horrid day was a glimmer of joy. </p><p>Only, when he arrived, the kitchen was dark. Remus frowned, checking his watch to make sure that yes, it was four o’clock, and it was beginning to get dark, and he hadn’t gone completely mad. He paused, listening. There were voices coming from the formal dining room off the front hall, and Remus wracked his brains as to why anyone would be in there. Turning on his heel, he headed towards the noise. </p><p>The sight that greeted Remus when he opened the dining room door was not what he had expected. If he was quite honest, he wasn’t sure what he had anticipated as his hand turned the doorknob, but it wasn’t <em>that</em>. Remus stared. The table had been laid with a crisp white cloth and was groaning with food, laden with it; cake and biscuits and the little pasties from the bakery that he loved so much, and more—so much more. There were streamers hanging from the curtain rail, little stars of David that looked like they had been cut out by hand and pasted to the strings, intermingled with the fairy lights that had been hung one Christmas and never taken down again. </p><p>“Moony!” James cried from the sideboard where it looked like he was setting up a set of speakers. “Happy Hanukkah!” </p><p>“Happy Hanukkah!” echoed Lily and Sirius. They were both beaming at him; Sirius over in the corner where he seemed to be wrapping silver tinsel round the large standing lamp. </p><p>“Guys,” Remus chuckled, a swell of emotion in his throat making the words sound alien. “You did all this?”</p><p>“We thought we could do Hanukkah with you this year, because you can’t go home,” beamed James.</p><p>“Are those jam doughnuts?” Remus stuttered, noting the sugar coated mounds of dough that looked suspiciously like the ones you could buy in the corner shop. </p><p>“Co-op’s finest, I’m afraid,” Lily grimaced. “We were on emergency stations. I promise it’ll be better tomorrow.”</p><p>“This is perfect,” Remus laughed—a genuine, rich laugh that bubbled up in his throat. He noted the plates with the blue floral pattern that usually sat in the dresser in the corner of the room; they were the china from James’ parents’ wedding, and he had never taken them down in the three years they’d all lived in the house. A lump rose in Remus’ throat at that and he looked up and caught James’ eye. </p><p>Lily laid her hand on Remus’ arm. “I picked up food on my way home. We’ve probably got everything wrong but Sirius did spend all afternoon researching, so if we have, you can blame him.” </p><p>“<em>Rude</em>!” Sirius cried from across the room as Remus laughed again. “For that, Dr Potter, you can come and help me get the drinks out of the fridge.” </p><p>Sirius and Lily left the room, laughing at something, jostling elbows and sniggering. Remus watched them go with a surge of affection, a desire to let that affection spill out of his mouth and into the air; to form words about how much he loved them, how much this all meant. </p><p>“You alright, Moony?” James asked, a worried frown on his face as he hurried over to Remus. “Did we get it wrong?” </p><p>Remus shook his head wildly. “No! It’s lovely, this is so lovely. Your mum and dad’s plates…” he gestured at them. </p><p>James shrugged and cleared his throat. “They’d have wanted me to use them with my family,” he said gruffly. “When Sirius said we needed blue things, well… it made sense.” </p><p>Remus smiled, but his mind was whirring. <em>Sirius said we needed blue things.</em> Remus had—perhaps unfairly—assumed that this was James’ idea; he was the one who paid attention to things like this. He knew exactly which cakes to bake for each of their birthdays, and he knew how they liked to celebrate, and he could whip up a party at short notice that his mother would have been proud of. Remus had not expected it to be Sirius, of all people, who had arranged that evening’s events. </p><p>“Sirius did the decor?” he asked. </p><p>James laughed. “Oh, all of it was Sirius’ idea. Like Lils said, blame him if it’s wrong.” </p><p>At that moment, the door opened and Sirius and Lily returned, armed with bottles of drinks. Remus watched the way that Sirius moved, laughing at some joke Lily had made that Remus hadn’t heard. Remus had always thought of Sirius as moving like water—sometimes tripping like a young brook, sometimes flowing like an elegant stream, sometimes torrid like stormy seas. </p><p>Something had always burned in Remus for Sirius. He’d never mentioned it; how was he supposed to say to one of his best friends that hey, I have a thing for you, you mad aristocrat, and I always have? Remus didn’t know what he should call that feeling he got when Sirius walked into the room, or when he smiled that lazy, delicious smile that made Remus’ chest feel like it was going to explode. He didn’t know how to articulate the fires in him that he thought could only, and forever, be quenched by the torrent that was Sirius—the man who didn't do love, the one man that Remus was certain he could never have. </p><p>“You ready, Moony?” Sirius asked, his grey eyes meeting Remus’ hazel. A jolt of something rich and delicious sparked in Remus’ stomach. </p><p><em>I love him</em>, he thought. That’s the name for that unspoken thing—<em>love</em>. </p><p>“Yeah,” breathed Remus, “I am.” </p>
<hr/><p>The evening had turned out even better than Sirius could have hoped. Remus had taught them how to play dreidel; Lily picked it up in a heartbeat, grinning and clapping her hands with delight whenever she won. Remus had explained in thoughtful, wisdom-filled words the story of Hanukkah, the reason for the celebration. Along with the dreidel, he’d retrieved from his room the small silver menorah he had, the slender candles that accompanied it, and donned his kippah. </p><p>Sirius had been delighted by the careful way Remus laid his hands on the candles; the thoughtful pauses between those words that Sirius didn’t understand, but that sounded so rich and so beautiful. He’d loved Remus for a long time—longer than he would care to admit to anyone—and had hidden that love away in a secret part of his heart. Tonight, it had felt like Sirius had been given a glimpse into some secret part of Remus’ heart, too. He was already excited for the next night, and the night after that; the joy of the games and the food, but also the quiet stillness as the consecutive candles were lit. </p><p>Sirius was in the kitchen, loading the final dishes into the dishwasher. James and Lily had gone up to bed, and Remus was gathering the last of the things from the dining room. A sort of gentle, almost profound or holy silence had descended on the house; the kind of silence that begs for confessions to be whispered into it, that embraces bodies and minds alike. </p><p>Remus’ voice came from behind him, and Sirius turned. “Hey Pads, that’s everything.” </p><p>“Great.” Sirius flicked the dishwasher on and wiped his hands on a tea towel. A quick glance at the kitchen window told him that it was once again snowing; there’d been a brief pause in the weather for the past hour. Sirius wandered over with his hands on his hips to look out into the darkness and the snow. </p><p>“Do you think it’ll hold off any time soon?” Remus asked, appearing at Sirius’ elbow and peering into the darkness. </p><p>“I think we’re snowed in for all of Hanukkah, Moons.” </p><p>They stayed together for a few moments in silence, watching the flakes of snow settle, those once unique snowflakes becoming part of some even more beautiful whole. It was quiet—the kind of quiet that only comes with heavy snow and the stillness it brings. Sirius’ mind wandered back to the party, to the jokes and the games and the food and the way Remus had laughed. He’d wanted to bottle that sound forever. </p><p>It was Remus who broke the silence. </p><p>“James said tonight was your idea.” Remus had a funny, quirking little smile on his face and Sirius suppressed the urge to reach out and run his finger across Remus’ lips. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.” </p><p>Sirius shrugged. “This is important to you. I know you wanted to go home to your folks and I’m sorry that you couldn’t. You always turn up for our stuff. It was good, tonight, to…” Sirius sought the words he wanted. “I don’t know, to get to be part of this bit of your life. I know we’re not your mum and dad—“</p><p>“You’re still family,” Remus interrupted hurriedly. </p><p>“I know,” pressed Sirius, “but I also know that this is about more than just the four of us here. Thank you for letting us be part of it. I’m so looking forward to tomorrow.”</p><p>Remus did not reply, staring out at the snow again with a satisfied, happy smile on his face. Sirius studied his profile. He wanted to reach out and thread his fingers through the mess of curls that fell forward onto Remus’ forehead, or run his fingers along the bridge of Remus’ straight nose, count the freckles that danced across it. As he studied Remus’ face, Sirius noticed the small patches of sugar around his lips; traces of the doughnuts they’d bought that Remus had chuckled at, and promised that the next night would be replaced by his family’s recipe for sufganiyot. </p><p>“You have sugar around your mouth, Moons,” Sirius said softly. Before he could stop himself, he reached out a hand and brushed the crystals of sugar from Remus’ lip as they glittered in the low light. Despite the gentle touch, it felt like electricity jumped between Sirius’ fingertips and Remus’ skin. He pulled back sharply so that his hand hovered in the air as their gazes met. </p><p>Suddenly, Remus’ fingers closed around Sirius’ wrist, his pulse point. His heart stuttered and he thought about the fact that Remus would be able to feel it beneath his skin. Had he overstepped their boundaries? Sirius couldn’t tell. James was such a tactile friend—he threw his arm around people’s shoulders or ruffled their hair—and Lily, Lily laid gentle hands on arms or smoothed the creases from their shirts as she talked. Remus and Sirius’ relationship had never been like that, never been physical. They kept an almost overly-polite distance. </p><p>Then—</p><p>Sirius wasn’t sure who kissed who first. Perhaps it had been him, rushing forwards into the space between them to press his lips upon Remus’, to feel the way that their bodies seemed to intrinsically fit. Or, perhaps it had been Remus, dropping Sirius’ wrist in favour of threading his long fingers through the dark tendrils of Sirius’ hair. All Sirius knew was that he felt like his body was burning for the mysterious, beautiful man that he had loved for so long, who was standing with him by a snowy scene and kissing him with what felt to be equal ardor. </p><p>They broke apart, lips still millimetres from one another. Sirius thought for one, desperate second that Remus was going to tell him that it was a mistake, that they shouldn’t have kissed, that this was all a great error of judgement that they should push to the backs of their minds. Only, nothing like that was written into Remus’ features—it seemed to be glee that was glittering like gold flecks in the hazel of Remus’ eyes. </p><p>“Happy Hanukkah, Moony,” Sirius whispered against Remus’ lips and felt Remus break into a grin. </p><p>“Happy Hanukkah, Pads.” </p>
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